Fever Dreams
by kittykatloren
Summary: And then it hit him. He had read about it ages ago, just a passing mention in a book about diseases of old. Unicorn fever. It was typically fatal, Numair recalled. Typically fatal. 4-part Daine/Numair story.
1. I

**A/N: **Okay, I acknowledge the fact that this title has probably been used for many other fics covering the same basic topic. I'm sorry! It's a good title! Anyway, this is my first long TP piece in quite some time. This will be FOUR CHAPTERS, chronicling Daine's struggle with unicorn fever. All of those little moments that are mentioned in the books but happened in the betweentimes... they're like ice cream and candy to a ficcer!

So, please enjoy and review. Lots of characters are featured. I will give an extra disclaimer: I know a lot of people (myself included) write angsty Numair-struggling-with-his-love-for-Daine during the time between Emperor Mage and Realms of the Gods. BUT, in fact, he doesn't realize he's in love until the beginning of Realms. TP states it pretty explicitly! So even though the feeling and the struggle is still there in my fic, he doesn't acknowledge it and angst about it, really. Sorry if anyone finds that disappointing!

Three more chapters to go!

**Characters:** Daine, Numair, Thayet, Jon, Onua, Baird, Kitten, Alanna  
><strong>Time: <strong>_Between Emperor Mage _and_ Realms of the Gods_  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Drama

**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognize belongs to Tamora Pierce, not me.

* * *

><p>Daine had been working hard all day - first early in the morning with Numair in their regular lessons practicing her array of skills (she didn't much need the wild magic lessons anymore, and they both knew it, but neither ever said anything because it was such a habit to be in each other's company), then in the stables until lunch with Stefan and Onua because a few of the horses had started to seem off-color. After lunch she ran with Cloud and the Seventh Rider Group on patrol, played with Kitten, tended to her woodland friends who had been attacked by immortals (that had been hard: the tetchier ones, covered in blood and so understandably nervous, scratched her quite a bit as she tried to heal them), then helped the trainee Riders clean up.<p>

Yet now, at dinner with Numair, the king and queen, Gareth the Younger, Onua, Buri, Sarge, and many of the Queen's Riders, she stared at her plate – steamed vegetables and grains mixed with chicken, warm potatoes with goat's cheese, and some fresh fruit on the side – and suddenly felt like she wanted to retch. Just the thought of eating something – anything – made her stomach roll. Her head throbbed as she pushed the plate away.

"Daine, what's wrong?" said Numair at once, seated next to her. Queen Thayet, across from her, looked up and frowned; Onua, on her other side, turned around sharply.

"It's nothing," Daine muttered, hating the feeling of so many pairs of eyes. She rubbed her temples. "I'm just a little tired, is all. I had a long day."

"Usually when you're tired, you eat like a horse to get your strength up again," Onua commented from her left.

Thayet, ever the mother, stretched across the table in a most un-queen-like manner to place the inside of her wrist on Daine's forehead. "You're definitely warm," she said. "You should go see Duke Baird."

"No, really – I'm fine," she insisted. She stood up, and it took great effort to stay on her feet, the world was whirling so much. She blinked open her eyes, staring around at them all, every face on hers now. "I'll just go get some rest. Sorry, Numair, I don't think I can study tonight - "

"I really think you should go see Duke Baird - " Thayet began.

"I agree," Numair said emphatically. "Daine, I'll go with you."

"_No_," she said, irritated at their mollycoddling. She wasn't a baby to be rushed to the healer for every little thing! "I just need a little sleep is all, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow."

Before any more of them could protest, she turned and left the hall, heading outside to her room under the Rider barracks. As she crossed the courtyard, every step became harder and harder to place. _Stop moving,_ she commanded the earth, as if it would have any effect. If anything, the spinning got worse. Her eyes started to blur out of focus, her head throbbed, and the last thing she knew was a sharp pain in her knees as she crashed to ground, blacking out.

Back in the dining hall, Numair could only pick at his food, his head full of thoughts of Daine. The others looked reasonably nervous too, and the friendly chatter of a few moments ago had subsided into worried murmuring.

_Daine's smart,_ he told himself. _She's right, sometimes people just come down with little things. She'd tell me if it were serious._ But even in his head, the words sounded empty. He knew only too well how stubborn she was and how much she hated having others fuss over her well-being. _I can look after myself!_ she'd snap.

Suddenly a loud noise from outside the windows made them all look up. It seemed as if every sparrow and starling roosting in the eaves had taken flight at once, squawking and chirping.

"Something spook them?" asked Sarge in his deep, rumbling voice.

Dogs from all over the palace began to bark. In the distance, Numair heard the agitated whinnies of horses all the way from the stables. Realization clicked in his mind.

"Daine," he said, leaping to his feet and tearing out of the room. Vaguely he registered Onua close behind. Numair knew beyond doubt that something was wrong. Nothing but a threat to Daine could have sent all the palace animals into a frenzy like that. A dark shape lay in the middle of the courtyard. Numair dropped to his knees beside it.

A number of dormice, a fox, a certain pygmy marmoset, and a baby dragon had beaten him to her, and Numair thought he heard an angry pony outside the courtyard gates. Kitten whistled anxiously in Daine's ear, while Zek buried himself in her hair; the other animals were fidgety. Gently Numair nudged them aside so he could lift Daine into his arms. Her head fell limply to one side, exposing her pale neck, which Numair immediately checked for a pulse. It was definitely there, but her skin was hot and sweaty even in the cool evening air.

"Something's wrong," he said, hearing his voice emerge tight and flat. "She's not just warm, she's burning up. No fever moves that fast, and if she blacked out - "

It was easier if he focused on the mechanics of disease and treatment, listing all the books he'd ever read on serious maladies and symptoms in his mind. It was _not_ easier if he looked at her face, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, skin damp.

"I'll go get Baird." Jon and Thayet had arrived. The king whisked away with a swish of his cloak. Onua ran to the gate to soothe a frantic Cloud before letting the pony inside to see her friend.

"I'm sorry, Cloud," Numair said, watching the pony sniff at Daine's cheek. "If I knew what was wrong, I'd tell you. We'll all do our best to keep her healthy."

Cloud huffed. Numair had no wild magic, but even he caught the pony's meaning. _You better._ She touched Daine with her nose again. At that, Daine stirred a little, but didn't open her eyes.

"Did you try giving her some of your strength?" Numair asked. Cloud nodded, a skill she'd picked up from so many years with Daine. "Then this must be something that affects humans, not animals, if your strength doesn't help her."

"Should we try to move her?" Thayet said.

"I don't know. I don't want to risk anything till Baird's here."

Absently he began to stroke her hair away from her face, careful not to upset Zek's perch. _She'll be fine. She will. She has to be,_ he thought, determinedly ignoring any other possibility. Onua laid a strong hand on his shoulder, for which he was grateful.

"Let me see her."

"Thayet said she was barely warm just a few minutes ago," Jon said, accompanied by Thayet's frantic nodding.

Baird had arrived. As he knelt, Numair passed Daine to him, though he kept hold of her hand. Zek scrambled up to Numair's shoulder. He watched nervously as the duke and chief healer checked Daine's forehead, temples, lymph nodes, and heartbeat. Baird worked briskly and efficiently. Green light radiated from his fingertips wherever he touched her. Numair burned with questions, desperate to know what he thought, and if she would be all right, but he knew better than to distract a healer at work.

At last Duke Baird spoke, quick and sharp. "Her fever is higher than any I've ever seen. We need to get her under heat and blankets, and soon. Let's get her to the infirmary, as fast as possible. Keep her head still."

Immediately Numair scooped Daine into his arms and stood up, cradling her head against his shoulder and tightening his grip under her knees. With a following of both humans and animals, Numair raced to the infirmary as fast as safety would allow, and as soon as he lay Daine down on the cot nearest to the blazing hearth, multiple hands tossed thick wool blankets on top of her. Gently Onua and Thayet pulled them up to the girl's chin. A gangly, blond preteen boy – Duke Baird's son, Nealan, Numair remembered - placed a bowl of hot water on the bedside table. Baird dipped a cloth in the water, wrung it out, and folded it on Daine's forehead.

"We have to sweat out the fever," he said. "Any way to get her warmer would be of help. Nealan, go stoke the fire. Get some cool, not cold, water. She needs liquids to replace the water she'll sweat out."

The blond boy dashed off at once. Numair tore his eyes away from Daine's face at last to study the healer. "Do you know what's wrong with her? What could bring this kind of fever on so fast?"

"I don't know yet," Baird replied solemnly. When Neal returned with cups, he touched Daine's lips to part them and ease the water into her mouth. "There are possibilities, but a fever alone does not tell much. The fact that it progressed so quickly leaves a limited number of options, but… I can't know which, nor how to treat her aside from warming her, until more symptoms appear. If more do."

"It won't be too late?" Numair insisted. Black sparks flew from his hands; his fear was getting the better of him, and he was forgetting to control his Gift.

"Don't harry the man, Numair," Onua snapped. He glared at her, though he knew her irritability was just a manifestation of her worry for Daine. "You know Baird will do all he can."

Despite the roaring fire, the warm towel, and the many blankets, Daine was still shivering. To him, the room was sweltering. Numair took off his cloak and rolled up the sleeves of his thin shirt. One of her hands was sticking out from under the blankets, so Numair sat down in the chair by the bed and took her small hand in his much larger one. "I'm going to stay here," he said.

"Numair - " began Thayet and Onua. He glared at both women, and they fell silent.

"Just don't forget to take care of yourself, too," Jonathan told him. "Your falling ill will do Daine no good."

"Thanks, Jon," Numair said, and he meant it. The king had a very good point. Numair wanted to be there for Daine when she woke. Baird coughed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned to the others.

"I'll like to place a bit of healing magic on all of you. If Daine has a disease, not just a fever – I'd like to ward you against something contagious."

Everyone nodded. Numair accepted the magic without complaint.

"She'll be fine, Numair," said Onua gently. "I'll come back first thing in the morning. I had better go calm the horses."

"Last I saw, Sarge and Gary were trying to settle all the dogs and cats and birds in the entire castle," Jon said. "The whole place is in an uproar. What an incredible influence our wildmage has."

"Yes, indeed," said Thayet, watching Daine with worry and affection. "I'll come back in the morning too. If there's no improvement, perhaps we should send word to Alanna."

"Her skills would be welcome," Baird said. He sounded relieved at the suggestion.

Numair listened to the conversation as if it were happening in a very distant corridor, and he could only just hear the echoes. Slowly, one by one, his friends departed. Baird told him, very kindly, that he'd be right next door, and to call if anything changed. Numair nodded mechanically. Then it was just him, Daine, and the heat that was her best chance. Like Baird had done, he opened her lips slightly with his finger, then tipped some water into her mouth.

Sweat ran down his neck, but Numair didn't care. His head was still reeling with the suddenness of it all. Just this morning, she'd been perfectly fine. They'd raced in bird form, tested her ability to shift in quick succession – that had tired her out, but a dip in the cool river in wolf form quickly replenished her energy. Then she'd sensed an eagle overhead of a species that she'd never met before, so she called it over so they could study it for a time. She had been all laughter and determination.

_Gods, if you're listening, let this just be a passing weariness,_ he prayed.

Soft noises at the infirmary door made him turn around. Kitten and the animals had been waiting patiently for the two-leggers to do their work, recognizing how important it was before returning to their friend's side. Now the dormice, the fox, and a few cats they must have picked up along the way crawled under Daine's blanket. _They're warming her,_ Numair realized. Zek settled in the crook of her neck. Kitten, too big, laid down on Numair's feet instead, crooning quietly.

"I know, Kit," he said. "I'm worried too."

For all that he seemed suddenly exhausted, sleep was not a possibility. Not when Daine started muttering and twitching a little, unconscious. Her eyebrows cinched in the middle; she looked pained, and it was like an arrow to Numair's own heart. All he could do was squeeze her hand tighter and pray.

* * *

><p><em>She was in a world of vivid colors and strange shapes, vaguely reminiscent of things she knew, but twisted and distorted somehow. She stood in Tortall's fields, but above her head the sky was cloudy and white like in Snowsdale. An eagle with the steel feathers of a Stormwing zipped overhead, so she started to chase it on foot through trees that were alive with the intent to trip her, through rivers which roared at her from watery jaws. The steel eagle led her to a rocky outcrop that dipped and flung her off like an angry horse. <em>

_Screaming as she fell, Daine tried to call on her wild magic to shift into one of People. But it wasn't there. She couldn't find it. All she could do was fall, with steel feathers raining down around her. Her eyes fixed on what was below._

_Flames of every color licked and sparked up at her. And yet, close as they were, she kept falling, and never reached them. Some curled up and touched her, copper, black, violet, pink, and green. She saw Numair's face in the flames, wavering, then it turned into Onua's, then ma's. Daine couldn't even close her eyes. _

_Falling, falling, falling towards the fire…_


	2. II

The sun rose, sparkling and bright as always, into Numair's blinking eyes. He supposed he must have fallen asleep at some point, his head against the cool stone wall. The fire was mere embers now. Immediately he glanced at Daine. She was still asleep, but no longer shaking and muttering, at least. When he felt her forehead, she was still dangerously hot. And she hadn't eaten since noon yesterday, he imagined – they had to get nourishment in her somehow. _At least she can drink,_ he remembered, so he tilted the cup of water to her mouth.

When the liquid touched her lips, her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth opened and she drank the water greedily. Numair wiped away a drop that had spilled onto her chin and set aside the empty cup. "More?" he said, and Daine nodded. There was still one more full cup, and Daine drank all of it. Even then, her voice was raw when she finally spoke.

"What… what happened?" she asked, coughing. Weak as it was, her voice still sent a wave of relief through Numair's tense and sore body. At his feet, Kitten perked up.

"You were not 'fine' last night," he said, worry giving his voice a dry edge. But seeing her confused, cloudy blue eyes, he melted back into sympathy. "You passed out in the courtyard. The animals all went mad, which is how we knew to go after you and bring you here, with Baird."

She nodded to show she understood. "What's… wrong with me, then? I'm still…"

"We don't know yet, magelet." With the hand that wasn't holding hers, he cupped her cheek, a habit of his that Daine had pointed out quite recently, actually. Apparently he always did that when he was worried about her. She noticed this time, too, and smiled wanly. "Anything else you can tell me about how you feel?"

"Weak all over," she muttered. Her eyes closed, and Numair was afraid she'd pass out again. "I had… dreams…"

"Fever dreams," Numair said. "Stay with me, Daine. Anything else? Did you do anything yesterday that might have gotten you sick?"

"No… I just… with you, then some riding, and I healed some animals who'd been hit by immortals… bleeding, scratched me…" She tilted her head toward her left shoulder. Numair moved the blankets and her sweat-soaked tunic to reveal a few red, swollen scratches. _But Daine is part of the People, too. She doesn't get infections from their claws._

"My mouth… tastes like blood," she said, opening her eyes again. "Fair strange."

Daine would always be Daine. Numair would have smiled if her words hadn't made him so uneasy. "I need to go get Baird, magelet. I'll be right back. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried," she said. "I know you won't let nothing happen to me."

"I won't let _anything_ happen to you," he said automatically. But he didn't know if she heard, for her eyes were closed again. Before letting her hand go, Numair kissed it gently, then rose and knocked on Baird's door, who entered at once.

"Any changes?" he asked.

"She started muttering in the night. Fever dreams. Some scratches on her shoulder. She woke up a second ago. Oh – and don't be surprised, but there are a number of animals in the bed with her."

"Did she recognize you when she woke?" Baird asked as he inspected the scratches.

Taken aback by the question, Numair blinked and had to search for his response. "Y-yes."

"Good. Sometimes fever can do funny things to the mind." He rested his hand on her forehead, a suffuse greenish light spreading underneath Daine's skin. For all his power, Numair had no trace of the healing Gift. He would have traded everything to be able to help Daine as Baird was now. "What else did she tell you when she woke?"

"She said she was weak all over, and her mouth tasted of blood," Numair reported.

Baird's sharp eyes flicked away from his patient. "Blood?"

Numair nodded. Baird's tone, one of unwelcome surprise, gave Numair the chills, despite the warmness of the room. He watched as Baird opened Daine's mouth and looked inside. "No blood. She doesn't seem to have bitten herself. It could be caused by a dry mouth, but I see both cups are empty…"

A knock sounded on the infirmary door, and Onua entered with a bowl of broth in her hands. "How is she?"

"No different, and we're no closer to figuring out why."

Onua sat down in Numair's vacated seat. "Can she take some broth?"

Baird nodded. "It would do her good."

Carefully the K'miri woman tipped small spoonfuls of broth at a time into Daine's mouth. She sighed. "Horse Lords, I hope this passes soon. The horses are jumpier than I've ever seen them. Not to mention all the rest of the animals, too."

"It's like we've all forgotten how to function without her," came another voice from the doorway. Thayet and Jon had returned. "Shall I send that message to Alanna?"

"Please," Baird said. He turned to bring the fire to a blaze once again, then placed another warm cloth on Daine's forehead. "I'm going to search her body for infection again, with my Gift. Fever is the body's way of fighting off infection, and I'd hoped that it would work, as it's the most natural and usually effective mechanism we have for staying healthy. But as it hasn't, I'm going to try and find the source, and perhaps then I can eliminate it there. But it's not guaranteed." He looked up at all of them, his gaze sympathetic.

"We'll leave you to it," said Onua. She set aside the broth and spoon. "Come on, Numair. You won't be any use like this. Take a bath, get some rest. You'll only get in the way of Duke Baird's healing like this, and you know it."

He _did_ know it, but that didn't make it any easier to take. Leaving Daine's side was always difficult, but this time was perhaps the hardest of all.

"I'll take very good care of her, Master Numair, I promise you that," said Baird.

"I know you will," Numair said, and he kissed Daine's forehead before following Onua and the others out the door. Kitten remained behind. Numair was so weary that he didn't notice the K'miri's sharp eyes on him.

"Go," she said sternly. "Bathe, sleep. You know you'll be the first to hear any news of her."

"Thanks, Onua."

Once back to his quarters, he did as the horsemistress recommended. Bathed and dressed in clean clothes, he did feel a little calmer, though he still paced around his room for some time. _If only there was something I could do,_ he thought furiously. She'd only been sick a day, yet he was already feeling the loss of her usual witty remarks and their extensive time together like an open wound. _We _have_ all forgotten how to function without her,_ he thought. _I certainly have._

Feeling slightly like an impatient child, Numair sent a spell to Baird's infirmary, a small but high quality listening-spell that lingered invisibly in a corner. This way, he really _would_ be the first to hear if anything happened. With his own magic warm by his ear, Numair finally consented to lay down and get some real sleep, his dreams filled with fear for his student and friend.

* * *

><p>Days passed with very little change in Daine's condition. Her fever had gone down enough for her to not be in as much immediate danger as she was that first night, but they were still pushing liquids on her, and she shivered violently if they removed any blankets or let the fire burn down. Every now and then, she would come to. Numair had been at her side in almost all her lucid moments – to be fair, he was at her side for as long as he could get away with – but they were becoming fewer and fewer, and less and less lucid.<p>

Alanna arrived from Pirate's Swoop a few days into it. Daine was awake when she came in, and happy to see her friend, but didn't seem to have the strength to speak.

"Don't worry," Alanna said gently, shooing Numair from his seat. She took Daine's hand, and Numair saw a flash of purple flame. "I have something for you." She produced a sloppily made drawing of a bushy-haired girl next to a dragon. "Thom drew it. Quite the artist for his nine years. George and the twins send their best to you as well."

Daine could do no more than smile weakly.

Baird entered. He and Alanna conferred, all business, despite the fact that they were old friends. Numair felt incredibly useless, which was not a feeling he enjoyed. At least he _felt_ like he was helping when he held her hand as she slept. Baird had told him she was quieter when he was around.

"Will she be able to handle it?" Alanna asked. "I think we need to do it, but…"

"If we raise the fire…"

"Do what?" interjected Numair, having lost track of their conversation, too deep in his own thoughts.

"Alanna's going to inspect her body physically as well as magically, just in case," Baird explained. "But that would mean exposing her, no blankets, and she can't be that cold for long."

"Numair, perhaps you could perform a heating spell from outside the room? Maybe doing it over a distance and through a wall would ensure that she doesn't burst into flames because of your power."

Numair winced at the thought. "I can do it. I'll be careful."

He had only been standing outside the infirmary, maintaining the warmth spell, for a few moments before he heard Alanna curse. "Baird! Get in here!"

If Baird was invited, Numair figured he was, too. He burst into the room to see Daine covered by a blanket, but her bare shoulders open to the air; her old clothes lay folded at the foot of the bed. At once Numair noticed what had made Alanna shout out. The little cuts that Daine had shown him were more than just red now. They were wildly inflamed, puffy and discolored, black and blue and green. Numair had never seen the like. All the magic Alanna and Baird administered didn't make a change. Creams and poultices were no better.

"These are no normal scratches," Alanna said through gritted teeth. "Numair, do you know how she got these?"

"She said – she said they were from some animals she was trying to heal in the woods. But she's immune to infections from animals, we _know_ that." They still looked skeptical. "I am positive of this. It's not an animal-borne infection. I would never say anything that jeopardized Daine's health, you know that."

"I believe you," Alanna said at last. "No normal infection looks like this, anyway."

"Why was she trying to heal the animals?" asked Baird, studying the swelling. "What was wrong with them?"

Numair struggled to remember her words. _If only I'd been with her when she was doing it, I'd know. I should _always_ be with her. _It was a foolish notion, but a tempting one. "I think she said they had been attacked by immortals."

"Which immortals? Stormwings, hurroks?"

"She didn't say."

"What're you thinking, Baird?" Alanna said cautiously. Baird sat back, rubbing his face with his hands.

"It's only an idea. And it's hard to be sure with so little information. And there hasn't been a case in centuries, since the immortals left, so I only know of it from books - "

"What is it?" growled Numair, his heart banging, though he refused to let his raw nerves show. He tightened his fists at his sides.

Baird looked him square in the face. "It could be unicorn fever."

Alanna frowned. Numair thought hard. _Unicorn fever… unicorn fever…_

And then it hit him. He had read about it ages ago, just a passing mention in a book about diseases of old, and if not for his extraordinary retention of written material, he never would have known such an obscure tidbit. Unicorn fever was an incredibly rare disease contracted when the blood of a unicorn somehow entered the bloodstream of a human. Fast-acting fever debilitated the person and exhausted their immune system, and the infection was then free to attack the mind. It was typically fatal, Numair recalled. _Typically fatal._

"If I'm right, she probably contracted it if the animal that scratched her had also scratched the unicorn, winged or no, and had its blood on its claws. Even a tiny drop can infect a human, especially one Daine's size, in no time at all. Everything fits – the fast fever, the delirious dreams, even the taste of blood in the mouth. In fact, that is the strongest piece of evidence. Every text on the disease I've read says that as it is born of blood, the person infected will taste nothing but blood."

"Can you heal her?" Numair asked, not looking at either of them. Only at Daine.

"I… Unicorn fever hasn't been seen in centuries. There was never a cure, and… and few fought it off naturally."

"_Can you heal her?_" he asked again, and he supposed he was shouting, because he suddenly felt Alanna's magic pressing against him, which had to be a warning.

"Calm down, Numair," she said, and though she was over a foot shorter than him, her crackling purple eyes made an intimidating sight nonetheless. "This is no time to forget yourself. This is Daine. If anyone can fight through this, she can. But what we need you to do is not panic. You need to leave us to our work, and if you could scour your bookshelves for anything that might help us, that would be greatly appreciated."

_She's right. There _is_ something I can do._ Acquiring a purpose greatly cleared Numair's mind. Instead of focusing on his fear, he focused on the task at hand, and it was able to largely drive thoughts of Daine from his head. Books had always been able to consume him.

He wished Tkaa were here, with his vast expanse of pre-Human Era knowledge, but the basilisk was off studying in the great library of Sir Myles of Olau. No matter how much Numair engrossed himself in his searching, every now and then a memory or an image of Daine would flash through his mind. Her smiling face when he taught her something new, or when she met one of her friends; the way she felt in his arms when he held her back in the emperor's palace in Carthak. Each time that happened, he had to push the book away and breathe deeply for a moment to clear his head again.

_Only she could make the strongest mage in Tortall so useless_, he thought dryly. He felt a small creature rubbing against his feet, and glanced down to see Kitten, standing hopefully on her hind legs. Kitten had been at Daine's side almost as much as he had.

"How're you doing, Kit?" he said as he lifted the dragonet into his lap. "Missing her? I am, too."

Kitten trilled and nudged his chest, but Numair patted her down. "Stay still, Kit. I've got work I should be doing… work that will help Daine."

At that, Kitten listened to him, curling into a patient ball on Numair's lap. Her weight was a warm comfort. As he read, he stroked her smooth scales; it helped him focus. _The next book… it'll be in the next book… the next one…_

* * *

><p>In the brief moments she came to, Daine's head was full of clamoring cries of concern from the People. <em>I'm all right,<em> she told them all, though even the mind-speaking, usually thoughtlessly easy, cost her strength. _Please don't worry about me. You're making all the two-leggers nervous. _

They all wished her good health and strength. Every night a different set of furry creatures would crawl into her bed and warm her, though she didn't always know they were there. But she did know _he_ was there. Almost every time she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was his smiling face, though it was becoming blurrier and blurrier in her mind. Numair's hand would cup her cheek, and she'd try to smile, then drift off into the horrors of her fever dreams once more.

_She was back in Carthak, in the Hall of Bones. But the friendly skeletons of the creatures of old were not there anymore. She wandered through the empty room, but no matter how far she walked, she never found the door. She started to run. Something was chasing her, she could feel it, but every time she turned around there was nothing behind her, so she ran faster, faster, faster._

_Shapes materialized around her. Dead shapes, but not the kind of dead she had once brought back to life. These were corpses. Corpses of ones she loved. She saw Cloud, charred and skeletal and broken; Kitten, a mess of blood and bone; Brokefang, human swords and spears through his chest. She saw people, too, with flesh rotting from their faces, but somehow she still recognized them. Onua, Alanna, the king and queen, even their children. Sarge and the Riders. Everyone she knew, everyone she loved…_

_Right in front of her loomed another. This one was taller than the rest. Black, anguished eyes stared through her soul as blood dripped over every inch of his swarthy skin. _

_Numair._

"_No," she said aloud, though she didn't hear herself. She tried again. "No! No! NO! NOOOOOO!"_


	3. III

"NOOOOOO!"

Daine writhed and thrashed in the cocoon of blankets affixing her to the infirmary bed. Alanna rushed in alone, Duke Baird getting some much-needed sleep. He and the King's Champion were on shifts taking care of Daine.

Numair tried desperately to calm the girl, gripping her shoulders tightly to keep her from falling. Something – fear, perhaps – was giving Daine extraordinary strength. He had to push hard against her to keep her still, and yet she continued to resist, flailing wildly. Her eyes were wide open, but it was clear she was not seeing either of them; her pupils were constricted, and she screamed madly.

"What happened?" asked Alanna, helping Numair hold her down.

"I don't know. She was muttering, like usual, a dream, and then – she started this, I don't know - "

"Delirium," said Alanna grimly. "It's definitely unicorn fever. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Numair, I need to magic her to sleep, or she'll harm herself."

Daine's eyes fixed on Numair. They looked nothing like they usually did, stormy and strong and intelligent. The blue was unnaturally vivid, and she glared, frightened and crazed and confused, like she was the cornered wolf-girl in Snowsdale once more. "Who are you? Don't touch me! Get away from me!"

Shocked, Numair let his grip on her lessen. As a result, Daine lashed out at him with her hand, and missed only because Alanna, strong for her size, was still holding her down. Numair couldn't believe his senses. _Daine._ Daine, looking at him like that… It threatened to tear him apart.

"It's just the fever talking," said Alanna. "Fever dreams can be nonsense, or they can be one's worst fears. Loss of waking memory is common. Concentrate, Numair! Hold her down so I can spell her, it's the only way to help her!"

Blindly Numair did as she commanded. He pressed his palms deep into Daine's shoulders with near all his weight behind them, terrified he would hurt her, but terrified still more of losing her. Still she screamed and cried.

Alanna was muttering under her breath. Behind his closed eyelids, Numair saw – and felt - a flare of violet light, powerful magic, and then Daine went still. Blinking, he saw that her eyes were closed and her breathing beginning to calm. Alanna, however, was panting with exertion.

"That's as much as I can do for her," she said. She checked the bandages on Daine's shoulder. "The cuts are looking better. Our magic is helping her fight the infection, but… Numair, you read it yourself in those scrolls you found. It's really down to her to get through, to realize what's real and what's not."

"I know," he said. He trailed his fingers through her hair, which was lank and tangled. Across the bed, Alanna rose to her feet, a knowing look in her eyes.

"She should sleep for some time. Call me if you need me."

Numair continued combing his fingers through her hair. _I should have been there,_ he thought churlishly, though he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop her healing an injured creature. He thought of the mad look in her eyes and shivered. _I should always be there for her. Like when she was young, when her whole village thought her mad like that… If I had known…_

His thoughts were idle, useless, and foolish. But they gave birth to a new idea. His fingers lingered at the end of one of her curls. Pulling out a small knife from his pocket – Daine and Onua had made him start carrying one wherever he went - he cut the lock of hair so it fell neatly into his palm. He tucked it into his pocket. _She'd hate me if she knew,_ he thought. But it was worth the risk. He could use her hair to make a focus. That way, if he ever had to know where she was… He could always find her and go to her. It was a perfectly reasonable thing for a teacher to do, he told himself. He was just looking out for his student.

* * *

><p>"Has he left her side at all this past week?" Onua asked Alanna idly one afternoon. Duke Baird was tending Daine, and Onua was devoting all extra time she had to being with the horses. Right now she was soothing Daine's pony, Cloud. Alanna picked up a brush and began to help with a big strawberry roan, who snapped at her but let her brush.<p>

"Rarely, and only under threat of death or dismemberment," the King's Champion replied. "I'm starting to think he's in love with the girl, the way he's acting."

The words spilled off her tongue like a throwaway comment of no real importance, but both women's hands froze in the process of grooming. The roan's tail flicked to Alanna's shoulder, but she ignored it.

"Horse Lords," breathed Onua. "He really is, isn't he? I mean, I thought about it a bit, but – he really _is_ in love with her. _Numair_, in love."

Cloud snorted impatiently, as if to say, _Of course he is._

"You're right," said Alanna, resuming her brushing. Despite her worry for Daine, she managed a small smile. "You should have seen the way he acted in Carthak, whenever that Kaddar was even just in the same _room_ as her. He was like a teenager again, all jealous and bad-tempered. Gods, this could be wonderful. I wonder when he'll realize it. I bet Daine feels the same about him. The way she smiles when she's with him - "

"She's young, though." But then Onua grinned. "But more mature than anyone I know."

"Quite."

The women looked at each other. Worry and hope mingled in both dark and violet eyes. "She'd better make it through," Alanna said.

Onua returned to her careful brushing. Cloud whuffed softly, but not even Onua could catch her meaning. "She will. She will because she's got to. And Daine always does what she's got to do."

* * *

><p><em>She was tired. So, so tired. All her muscles ached, and every inch of her skin burned, and she was so, so tired of it. Just across the way was a glittering pond. It would be so cool there. It lay next to a cottage, and a man and a woman were standing in front of it. The woman looked oddly familiar. The man had antlers.<em>

_If she could escape these flames, these flames that showed her terrible dark images and left a burning, bitter taste in her mouth, she could make it there. It would be so peaceful._

_She took the first few steps. At the beginning, it was hard; the flames snaked out hot hands to hold her down. But the father away she got, the weaker they became, fading into memory. She could do it. She could get there._

_But then the woman shook her head. "No. You can't come here yet," she said kindly._

"_Why?" said Daine. "Why can't I come?"_

"_Listen," said the antlered man. "Like you do in the woods. Listen, and you will know where you should go."_

_So Daine did as she was told. She closed her eyes and focused all her energy on her ears, waiting for something, anything, a whisper on the wind._

_A man's voice, midrange and soft, was telling a story. It was a nice story, she noted. A story of belonging, of strength, of friendship. She liked his voice. Something about it and the story it told was very familiar to her._

"_Go," said her ma and da. How she knew it was them, she didn't question. And she didn't linger, either. She wouldn't remember. Instead she walked blindly, following the voice. For how long she walked, she didn't know._

_At last, she opened her eyes._

* * *

><p>It was torture, really, what he was doing to himself, and yet Numair couldn't make himself stop. He left Daine's side only for the barest necessities. He didn't care if servants – or his friends, for that matter – were whispering. He pushed through the pain of having her wake and fail to recognize him, time and time again. Sometimes she'd be calm, just confused, and sometimes she'd speak nonsense, or think she was back in Snowsdale with her ma or her Pack. Sometimes she screamed. Angry and scared, she would try to hit him or scramble away from his soothing words and gentle hands.<p>

But he had to stay. It would all be worth it for that one moment when she woke up and recognition glimmered in her blue-grey eyes. Everyone knew that now, there was not very much that the healers could do to help her. It was down to Daine and Daine alone to fight off the fever.

Numair took to talking to her in a low voice, even if she was asleep. Perhaps his voice would permeate somehow, and their memories would help her return to herself. The noonday bell rang in the distance.

"When I first met you, magelet, the strength of your wild magic nearly knocked me out. I was sick, but even then I felt it. We spent a lot of time together, you and the hawk-me… And afterwards, too. Remember our first lesson? You were so hesitant at first, but by the gods, I was impressed. And jealous. You and Cloud kept talking and cutting me out of the conversation. Remember when we met the undine together? I'd like to see her again. And in Pirate's Swoop, when you parlayed with the griffins, then fought off the raiders… Seeing that kraken, I don't know if I've ever been more shocked. It was really something. You have a marvelous ability to make friends."

Her nose twitched in her sleep and she shifted a little, but didn't wake. Numair sighed. He described Dunlath, how much he enjoyed meeting her Pack, how much he hated being separated from her by Tristan's magical barrier. "Well, he got what he deserved, I suppose," Numair said thoughtfully. "I hadn't been planning to use a word of power. But when he threatened you, it just happened. It seems I was born with an instinct to protect you at all costs. But you look out for yourself just fine, too… You learned to shapeshift all on your own. Quite extraordinary."

He talked of various memories from the palace, too, times they laughed at Onua's and Sarge's jokes, her teaching him how to be better rider, him taking her to see his tower and the ocean view there for the first time. He stroked her palm with his thumb, brushed her cheek with his other hand. Her skin was still so warm. "And just this year, in Carthak, you were marvelous. You really are starting to look like a lady. And commanding an army of the ancients! Have you any idea how much Lindhall and I learned from examining Bonedancer and the others you brought to life? An academic's dream, you are. You told me you 'lost your temper' because you thought I had been killed – I would hate to see what you would do if I actually _were_ to get killed, magelet. I'll do my best to never let it happen. So don't… just don't go dying on me, now, Daine. You don't want to know what _I_ would without you."

Numair blinked. The room was suddenly dark. Had night fallen, already? He had been speaking without meaning to by the end, the memories and the feelings just flowing into word form. He glanced away from the window and back at Daine.

She was blinking, too. Her eyes were dull and barely open, but she was looking straight at him. Numair braced himself.

"Numair…?" she whispered.

"It's me, magelet," he said in a rush, hardly daring to breathe. "Do you remember who _you_ are?"

"'Course I do. I'm… I'm Daine, dolt."

He laughed weakly in sheer relief, squeezing her hand. "How do you feel? What do you want?"

"Water would be good," she croaked, and immediately Numair helped her to a cup of the cool liquid. She made a face. Perhaps her mouth still tasted of blood. "I'm still… real tired."

Before he could correct her grammar, her eyes fluttered closed again. But he felt her little fingers slide around his and give him a squeeze back before she fell back asleep. And for once, her sleep was quiet. She didn't twitch or murmur even once. Now it was Numair who trembled, hope burning in his chest.


	4. IV

**A/N:** Final chapter! Thanks to everyone who reads and supports this. I really appreciate all your comments! I know this idea has been done, and done well, many times by the fandom, so it means a lot that people are reading my version.

Speaking of reading things, though... If you want more Daine/Numair canon-ish time period, you could take a look at another story I recently posted, _Temptation Lake_. I really liked how it turned out, but discouragingly, no one has given it a review ;_; I don't mean to be one of those review trolls, I usually don't do this. But it's very sad to get NO comments, right? The whole fandom in general needs to be more review-y, I think - I'm going to make an effort starting now to review more fics. Hopefully I'll remember to review EVERY fic I read. *endramble*

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Stalking silently through the palace hallways the next morning, Numair arrived at his destination unseen. Only now that he knew Daine's illness was lessening in its severity did he allow himself to finally tackle this project that had been floating in the back of his mind for some time. He knocked on door of the workshop belonging to the court artist, Volney Rain. He was a plump and friendly fellow, grinning jovially when he answered the door.<p>

"Master Numair. Good to see you, good to see you. How's the lady Daine?"

Rain was fond of Daine, having entrusted one of his beloved dogs to her care. The dog in question, a mangy but energetic little mutt, nipped at Numair's boots, healthy and happy. "She's doing better, but not fully recovered yet. Rain, I have a commission for you."

"Aye, and I'll be glad to fill it. What of?"

Numair gulped. He had to pull this off right, or he'd never hear the end of it. "I need a miniature of the lady Daine," he said, trying to sound as cool and careless as possible. "It's for an experiment. It'll need to be about the size of a fingernail."

"That small?" said Rain. "I know her face. I can do that." He looked at Numair slyly. "Might this be…?"

"It's for an experiment," Numair insisted, and Rain looked away.

"O' course, o' course. I can have it ready for you by this evening. Things have been slow lately, so I'll get to starting it right now."

"Thank you," said Numair, passing him the appropriate coin, plus a copper noble extra. "Don't tell anyone I asked for it."

"Aye," said Rain, taking the gold with a knowing look in his eye that Numair didn't appreciate. _I'm making a focus, not a lover's token,_ he thought irritably. But he had no reason to complain that evening when he saw the artist's fine work. He had captured Daine down to the finest detail, highlights in her curly hair, storms in her eyes, delicate nose and stubborn chin. Numair ran his fingers over the tiny face.

Rain had set the portrait in a gold locket. Numair dug around his drawers until he found a broken gold chain amongst the mess that was his desk. A flicker of black magic repaired it and affixed the painting to one of its links, though the metal grew very briefly white-hot and nearly burned the skin off his palms. He cursed; sometimes he hated the power that made him so incompetent when it came to simple magics. Now came the difficult part.

Carefully Numair placed the lock of hair he had taken from her without her knowledge in the clasp of the locket. The hair, as something that had been in her possession for a long amount of time, would provide the magical connection he needed to find her. The picture would remind him of what he was searching for and make it easier for him to go to her, or so he told himself. All that was strictly needed for the magic was the hair. Closing his eyes, Numair laid his hand over the locket and began to murmur, weaving the spell with memories of her at the forefront of his mind.

It was well past midnight when he finished. He knew he had done it right. The whole bracelet glimmered with sparkling dark magic. Numair fastened it around his wrist, then performed one more spell. It would now be unnoticeable to anyone but himself.

_There,_ he thought with relief and pride._ I'll never lose her again. If she needs me, I'll always be there._

Numair feel asleep right there, his head on his desk. _Daine would scold me so if she saw me like this,_ he thought before exhaustion overtook him at last.

* * *

><p>Daine remained bedridden for a week longer. But she had overcome the worst, Alanna and Baird said. Her fever was down, having fought off the worst of the blood infection, and the cuts were near fully healed. She would make it through. Knowing that fact made Numair's legs go so weak he figured he might as well stay in his chair, since he'd probably topple right over if he tried to walk. Daine was waking up more frequently now, too, and able to keep down some soft foods. Every time she woke and saw him there, she rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was pleased.<p>

"You look terrible, by the way," she told him bluntly. "You're all pale, you haven't shaved, and you look thin. Have you been eating enough?"

"Thanks ever so much, magelet," said Numair, touching his rough cheek curiously before feeding her another bite of porridge with cinnamon and sugar. "I'm glad to know you appreciate my bedside vigil so much. How does the porridge taste?"

"I just don't want _you_ to get sick," she insisted. "And it tastes like porridge, finally."

Numair's response was interrupted by the entrance of Duke Baird's blond, twelve-year-old son, Nealan. He was dropping off freshly laundered sheets. "Hello, Nealan," Numair said instead.

"Nealan, is it?" said Daine, smiling kindly at him. "I should thank you for taking care of me. You and your father have been wondrous hard workers."

Nealan blushed furiously, his whole face turning beet red at being addressed directly by Daine herself. He muttered something incomprehensible and dashed out of the room as quickly as if he were being chased by a spidren. Daine blinked and turned to Numair. "Was it something I said?"

"I think you've got an admirer," said Numair with a wink, while she stuck her tongue out at him.

"If my arms weren't so dratted weak, I'd take that porridge spoon and whack you across the head with it."

"Open up," he said, smirking and lifting another spoonful. Daine just rolled her eyes again.

When she had eaten her fill, she started to doze off again, but not before she demanded that Numair leave, clean up, eat, and rest too. "And I'll know if you haven't," she said blearily. "'Bye, Numair."

"Feel better soon, sweetling," he said, cupping her cheek briefly.

"Hunh?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, cursing the strange endearment that had escaped his lips. Why had he said that? "Sleep well, magelet."

* * *

><p>Soon Daine was strong enough for Numair to accompany her out of the infirmary. Onua had already brought her to the stables so she could see Cloud, and Kitten and Zek just barged into the infirmary whenever they wanted to, but Daine had all manner of other friends she wanted to greet, too. With her arm around Numair's waist, she stumbled out into the grounds where they usually had their lessons. The grass was wonderfully cool on her bare feet and legs – she wore only a simple shift and short breeches – and the sun was warm on her cheeks. A few clouds pulled it in and out of view, keeping the afternoon from getting too toasty.<p>

_It's good to see you all too,_ she told all the People who gathered around her. _I was just sick, that's all, but I'm better now._

_What made you sick?_ said a curious squirrel, who reminded her of Flicker back in Dunlath, though this creature's fur was gray instead of brown.

_Unicorn blood, they tell me,_ she said seriously_. You must all be very careful when dealing with immortals, do you understand?_

They all told her that they did, and that they would do as she suggested. Comforted, Daine gave them all a pat and sent them on their way. Then she fell onto back in the grass, watching the sky.

"I hate not being able to _do_ anything," she muttered. "I want to get out and ride, to fly, to work."

Beside her, Numair settled his lanky legs into a butterfly position. He was one of the only grown men she knew who could still sit like that. "The more you take care of yourself now, the sooner you will recover," he said. "I don't want you pushing yourself and falling ill again."

Daine nodded. Numair's tone was light, but she detected real concern behind his voice. "It was really bad, wasn't it, what I had?" she asked him, studying his long face for his reaction.

"You were fighting for your life," he said quietly. Daine's breath caught at the pain she heard beneath his words. "It was down to you to pull yourself through, and there was nothing any of us could do to help. There was nothing _I_ could do."

She hated to hear him so anxious. So this time, _she_ pressed _her_ small palm to his cheek. "I heard you, though," she said. "You were telling our story. You know, how we met, our lessons, some memories, and all. I heard it. It helped me wake up."

His dark eyes grew wide. "Truly, magelet?"

"Truly," she repeated with a grin. "So don't go calling yourself useless, master mage. Your hand was warm round mine, too. So, thank you, Numair."

The smile that lit his face warmed her even more than the sun overhead. Back with Numair, free in the outdoors, she felt almost as lively as ever. Daine threw her arms around his neck and was rewarded by his rumbling laugh and strong embrace in return.

Out of the corner of his eye, Numair saw the small gold bracelet on his wrist, invisible and substanceless to all but himself, catch a gleam of sunlight and reflect it back into his eyes. The blinding flash was surely the only reason his eyes grew wet, he thought to himself. He composed himself in time to support Daine back to the palace, return her to Duke Baird's care, and promise to come back after she woke for supper.

"Thanks again, Numair," she said as he turned to leave. She even stood on her tiptoes to place a brief kiss on his cheek. Numair smiled and nodded at her, warmed straight to his heart.

The castle was a much calmer, happier place since Daine had begun to recover. There were no strained expressions on the faces of all his friends, no nervous animals around every corner, no owls hooting all the night. Alanna was staying long enough to see Daine fully healed, and Numair, missing the Lioness's company, found her in the training yard, sparring with Jon like they were still pages. Thayet and Buri watched from the sidelines, so Numair joined them.

"How's Daine?" asked the queen, though thankfully, the question no longer had the soft, nervous tone of some days ago.

"Quite well," reported Numair. "I just took her out to talk to some of her animal friends. She's always glad to get out of bed."

"I would be too, confined for so long like that," said Buri, shuddering. "Poor girl. I'm glad she's finally getting better. It was scary, these past weeks."

Thayet nodded fervently. After a time, Alanna and Jon, noticing their audience, came to join them.

"Got to keep our king in shape," Alanna said with a grin, wiping sweat from her brow with a handkerchief Numair offered her. "How's Daine doing?"

"Quite well," said Numair again, smiling.

"No handkerchief for me?" said Jon indignantly. Alanna tossed him the sweaty one, and they all laughed. "I would have had you this bout if we hadn't stopped to chat."

"That's what you think," retorted Alanna. It was good to be back among friends, laughing and smiling, Numair realized. None of them had laughed like this since Daine had fallen ill. _We can't function without her anymore,_ he recalled with a grin.

As the king, queen, and Buri headed off toward the kitchens and dining hall for supper, Alanna held Numair back. "Walk with me a moment, Numair." Surprised, Numair nodded.

They took a circuitous route through the courtyard and along the inside of the wall. Numair waited patiently for Alanna to speak. She glanced at him sharply from those vivid violet eyes. _She could kill a man with that glare, if she wished to do so, _he thought nervously.

"How are _you_ doing, Numair?" she said finally.

"Me? Fine," he said, a little confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, stop it," the Lioness said irritably. "You've been through the Black God's realms and back these past few weeks, as surely as Daine has. Don't deny it. This was harder on you than anyone else, much as we all love Daine."

He blushed. "She's my student, after all. And my friend. Of course I've been concerned."

"'Concerned' doesn't quite encompass sitting by her bedside every spare moment of every day, Numair. All I want to say is be careful with her, and be smart."

"Alanna, I don't - " What was he going to say? _I don't understand? I don't know what I'm doing?_

Thankfully, she interrupted him with a raised hand. "I've said my piece. You'll figure it out soon, I'm sure. Just keep it in mind, all right?"

"Of course," said Numair, still bewildered, "but - ?"

"Care to join us for dinner?" someone called out. It was Onua. They had reached the kitchens, and she was waving them over. Alanna shouted a greeting in return and hurried off, waving Numair to follow.

Numair sighed. Sometimes it was immeasurably frustrating to have women – no, _these_ women, he thought, watching as they conferred in low voices, grinning back at him - as his closest friends. Men didn't speak in riddles.

Still, despite what he said to Alanna, he immediately forgot their entire conversation upon catching sight of Daine, supported by Duke Baird, entering the dining quarters to eat with the group. Many clapped and cheered, Onua gave her a one-armed hug, with her Rider friend Miri on the other side. He watched as she said something to Baird and pointed to the seat beside Numair. Everyone else clustered around them. Daine looked tired, but happy, her eyes alight as she smiled and laughed once more.

"It's good to have you back, Daine," Numair said, to vociferous agreement.

"It's good to _be_ back," she replied, beaming up at him, as beautiful now with her messy hair and pale skin as she had been in Carthak when she was dressed up her finest. Numair blinked, temporarily distracted, before her eager voice pulled him back into the conversation at hand. "So, come on! Tell me everything I've missed!"

"Just all of us being worried about you," he said mischievously, appealing to all the others for support. They laughed, agreed with him, told stories, ate long and well. Full of good food and relief, Numair leaned back in his chair and finally – for the first time in weeks – let himself truly relax.


End file.
